


A Quartet of Compliments Earns a Kiss

by WhyDoIWrite



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friends to Girlfriends, Rose didn't go to Man City, Sharing a Bed, USWNT Camp, just go with it, mentions of Sonnett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIWrite/pseuds/WhyDoIWrite
Summary: Camp. After camp. Some awkwardness. Missing Sonnett gives them something in common, but maybe it’s the repeated compliments that leads to their first kiss.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Rose Lavelle
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	A Quartet of Compliments Earns a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Just pretend Rose didn't go to Europe, but everyone else did.

“I like your smile.”

“What?” Lindsey is immediately discombobulated as she looks up from picking at her nail polish to find Rose lingering by her empty table. First, it's the compliment itself; those don’t exactly flow easily from Rose’s lips. Then it's because of the ridiculousness of it – they all have to keep their masks on until their meal is served, so what smile, really? And finally, perhaps most importantly, because of how Rose says it. It’s oddly gentle. Sincere. Not even a hint of jest behind it. Rose leaves the words hanging in the air in a way that makes it clear no punchline is following. It’s unexpected, for sure; she certainly wouldn’t have said it if their teammates had been seated next to Lindsey like they were supposed to be.

“I like your smile,” Rose repeats with the same candor, proving the first time wasn’t a mistake, wasn’t some joke Lindsey didn’t get. “I like that you smile with your eyes. That I can still tell when you’re smiling even with a mask on. I dunno. It like… makes your eyes more beautiful or something. I mean, it probably doesn’t, _actually_ ,” Rose blathers, “because that’s not possible. It’s probably more like… because I can’t see your _actual_ smile, your smiling eyes stand out more, ya know?”

Lindsey blushes.

Rose blushes.

Lindsey giggles nervously.

She doesn’t know what else to do. Besides, Rose is like #2 when it comes to people who can make her giggle, and while this isn’t exactly funny, it’s weird. Which makes it funny. Ish. Maybe not Sonny-level funny, but giggle-worthy nonetheless.

And then without another word, Rose is gone, across the room, sitting at her assigned table, and for the first time that Lindsey can ever remember, she wishes Rose were next to her. It has to be the loneliness of half of her friends missing, or of her whole table missing at the moment, that creates that little pang she feels in her chest, because it certainly cannot be about Rose. There have been lots of times that she wished Sonny was next to her. Like… lots. There have even been times when she’s been so full of rage that she wished she had Kelley sitting next to her – not to do anything – just to sit with her and understand without having to use words and without being the fixer that Sonny always tries to be. But now, she feels a noticeable hole, and sure, it could be because Sonny’s not there or because Kelley’s taking her sweet ass time to come down to eat, but suddenly, it feels like Rose could fill that hole.

That feeling is strange to her, because Rose is… well Rose is Rose. Lindsey doesn’t know how to explain it. She’s not someone Lindsey would ever think about like that, about wanting her next to her. She doesn’t pass her time thinking about how Rose’s eyes don’t squint or wrinkle when she smiles, like Sonny’s and Kelley’s, but sparkle like a diamond when the light hits just right. Or how she throws her head back when she laughs because she’s so full of life that it never occurs to her someone might be judging her. Rose isn’t the kind of person who makes Lindsey’s chest tighten when she stops and talks to her. No, when she thinks about Rose, she think about other things, because Rose is someone who teases. Pranks. Jokes. Always. Lindsey has to be on edge around her, not because Rose makes her nervous, but because the electricity in the air stems from the possibility of something always around the corner. Rose is someone who lightens the mood with her dancing and singing. And as good as she is at fucking with people, she’s also really good to give it back to because she’s so dramatic. And because she’s always a good sport about it, whether Lindsey is slapping Rose’s hand out of her face or hitting her in the head with a water bottle. The former drives Lindsey’s memory right back to that locker room years ago, when Rose was dancing seductively (but also like a fool) in front of her, and for the first time in her life, the only time really, Lindsey was uncomfortable in Rose’s presence. It’s why she pushed Rose’s hand out of her face. At the time, it seemed like the best way to not acknowledge the fact that Rose was… well… she was kind of attractive. Not in the conventional sense, because she was skinny and pale and kinda nerdy, but there was something awe-inspiring about her presence. About her confidence. About her humor. About her easy way. And she was – no is – pretty. It was kinda hot back then, Lindsey admits to herself.

But Lindsey definitely hadn’t thought about her like that again. Until now - at lunch – during a pandemic, which is particularly inconvenient because they can’t even sit where they want. And now, watching Rose cock her head to the side as she listens to some story Tierna is telling, well… maybe Rose is still kinda hot. She’s grown up a lot. They both have, Lindsey supposes. It’s just… Rose is not someone Lindsey can think about like that. She finds herself repeating that mantra again and again, hoping she can force her brain to return to the normalcy that existed prior to Rose opening her mouth and allowing a compliment out. It feels strangely not allowed, not because Rose is a teammate; that hasn’t… ahem… stopped Lindsey in the past. Rose is just different. Different in the way that Lindsey realizes she always diverts her eyes from Rose in change rooms. But why? Rose can’t possibly make her nervous. Could she? Still, it’s not enough to pull her eyes away from Rose now, from watching Rose out of the corner of her eye while she eats and laughs and talks with her hands. It’s hard to look away when she’s so happy and free. It’s even harder to look away when Rose keeps catching her eye and holding it, grinning in that genuine way, not in the way she smiles in pictures – fake – that Lindsey teases her about. But then that’s it. Their meal is over and they go their separate ways and Lindsey’s left lying in her hotel room alone, staring at her phone and wishing that Rose would FaceTime her. Or text her, at least. She doesn’t know why or what they’d talk about, it just seems like it would be better than the silence she’s sitting in now. Silence is dangerous. It gives the brain time to wonder and worry and dream. Then again, maybe Rose's weirdness is just because she's sad that her ankle injury back in the summer prevented her from signing with City. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe Lindsey's overthinking things.

*****

“Eeeeeee!!!!” Rose shrieks as Lindsey cups the smaller woman’s rosy cheeks with her near-frozen hands. “You’re so cold!” But Rose’s reaction makes Lindsey smile and that makes Rose smile, even as the chill spreads through her entire body. And maybe it’s the cold of Lindsey’s hands, because they are really, really cold, but it also could be Lindsey’s touch.

“You like the cold, shut up,” Lindsey giggles.

Rose doesn’t push her hands away. She certainly doesn’t mind Lindsey this close to her. Touching her. Smiling at her. She leans in closer, letting her shiver vibrate both their bodies.

“Boop!” Lindsey grins, popping Rose’s bright-red nose with her index finger. It’s something she reserved for Caitlin and Ellie. For Sonny. It feels right, brining Rose into this now non-existent world, or maybe it’s making Rose smile that feels right.

But then Rose shoves her gloved hands into Lindsey’s pocket and that? That feels nerve-wracking. That feels like maybe Lindsey should have known better than to start this thing because Rose was going to be the one to take it to another level. To finish it. It’s how she is, always taking everything to another level. Score a goal, and Rose will cut through three defenders on her own and finish with a laser-guided missile to the bottom corner, bumping you from the highlight reel. Prank her by adding salt to her coffee and expect so much hot sauce mixed into whatever food or beverage she can get her hands on that your mouth will burn for the rest of the day. Sing happy birthday to someone, and she’ll sing the longer version while marching around the dining room flinging balloons everywhere. Splash her when she’s lounging by the pool, and somehow, the girl who’s not even a buck and a quarter will dunk you the next time you’re in the ice bath. Tell a story about your dog and she’ll meet that story and raise you three more. She got hit with a snowball yesterday; Aubrey ended up tackled into a drift with snow down the collar of her jacket and in the back of the pants. Tap her lightly on her frozen nose and she’ll claim your pockets as her own, apparently. No, Rose Lavelle has never been one to mess around.

But Lindsey has always been brave. If she can embark on a professional career in a foreign country before turning 18, certainly, she can handle the pint-sized midfielder. She jams her hands into her own pockets, interlacing her fingers with Rose’s and squeezing. There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? It was definitely worth it, the way Rose looks a little taken aback. The way she shifts her body away from Lindsey, just about an inch, her fingers uselessly tugging against Lindsey’s in a half-assed and ultimately futile attempt to get away. Anything that makes Rose nervous is worth it.

Lindsey feels heat surge through her body until she’s warmed all over, despite the 19 degree temperature. Rose is so close to her, her blue eyes bright, her breath puffing, her whole face so pretty pink. Lindsey’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of her chest as Rose settles and rubs her fingers against Lindsey’s. It doesn’t even matter that Rose’s gloves are separating them. The whole moment feels significant, and suddenly, it feels scarier than soccer, except it shouldn't. To any of their teammates who might happen to glance over, they’d look like two idiots in a staring competition. It wouldn’t even be their first time.

It’s exactly what they look like to Kelley. “Let’s go, losers. Ready to get destroyed again? We’re gonna be two and oh after today,” Kelley shoves Lindsey’s shoulder as she makes her way onto the field, not even giving the pair a second glance. 

Lindsey stumbles, caught off-guard by Kelley. It’s then that Rose’s fingers tighten around hers, steadying her, righting her, pulling her just a little (unnecessarily) closer. But it’s enough to be overwhelming.

And then Rose is gone again, skipping out onto the field, ready for another round of training, as if they didn’t just share something unspoken and new. Something undeniably electric. While Rose is seemingly unbothered, it’s on Lindsey’s mind the rest of practice, as she loops around the weave poles and passes Rose. When Rose jumps in her arms after a particularly good half-volley. When she’s looking for an outlet pass as they take on their older teammates in 6v6. They’re all roles Sonny would have filled, but now Sonny’s gone.

*****

“Um… hi,” Lindsey opens her door, confused to find Rose standing there, and even more confused when Rose pushes her way in. “What are you-”

“Didn’t you hear? We’ve tested negative enough times now we’re allowed to hang out.”

Oh. No. Lindsey didn’t hear. As she slowly closes the door, she realizes that Rose chose her to come spend time with. That same warmth, the one that’s starting to become more familiar, spreads through her.

“There’s no one here,” Rose complains. “Most. Boring. Camp. Ever.”

Oh. Ok, so Rose didn’t actually choose her. Rose is bored and missing Sam and Mal and Sonny, and Rose didn’t have anyone else to spend time with. This is probably what it feels like to be picked last in dodgeball, Lindsey thinks watching Rose climb onto her bed, obviously her bed because it’s a mess and the other one is still made up, and Lindsey’s left staring at her. “Well, what do you want to do?” Lindsey asks, tentatively walking over and lowering herself onto her bed, as far away from Rose as possible. “Do you want to go prank someone? We could…” Lindsey realizes as the words travel out of her mouth that she doesn’t have a way to finish that sentence. She doesn’t have any ideas. Pranking people is Sonnett’s forte. She and Rose together are a couple of devious masterminds, which is why Lindsey is so often their target.

“Dunno. Not really.” Rose rolls into the space that Lindsey purposely left between them and lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you miss her?” she asks, changing the subject so quickly that it's apparent she came with a purpose.

“Who?”

“Sonny.”

There are a hundred little things that Lindsey misses not having Sonny there, things she had never even thought about because she’d never been without her best friend for this long. Stupid things, like the way she chews and the way she gets so frustrated at Lindsey’s wiggliness. Things she complained about before that she wants back now, like how damn long it takes her to get ready for everything, not just going out, but something as simple as breakfast down in the hotel dining room. “Of course I miss her. It’s not the same without her. Nothing’s ever the same without her,” Lindsey answers quietly.

“No… it’s not…” Rose trails off. “I miss her a lot.”

“What do you miss the most?” Lindsey asks, thinking going down this slippery slope is a bad idea because she just might start crying. Again. But talking about Sonny is like that scab you can’t stop picking at; it hurts, but it’s so unavoidable.

“I miss cuddling with her.”

Lindsey misses that too. She didn’t really think about how much everyone just sidles up to Sonny any chance they get – her, Rose, Kelley, Mal. Even Sam sometimes. “You can cuddle with me. I know it’s not the same, but- ”

In an instant, Rose is tucked into her side at that invitation. Effortlessly, it seems, and Lindsey lifts her arm to bring it around Rose, giving up her bicep as a pillow. Rose snuggles into her the way she probably snuggles into Sonny, burying her face and squeezing Lindsey before letting her slight hand settle on Lindsey’s chest. Lindsey watched it rise and fall with each breath she takes. It’s comforting, the weight of Rose’s head and her hand there, placed so delicately. Eventually, she throws her leg over Lindsey too, and it feels so perfectly natural, like Rose just belongs there, tangled up with her. She doesn’t really have time to process how weird the ease of it all is before she’s drifting off, exhausted from their two-a-days.

“What are you doing after camp?”

Rose sounds sleepy. And Lindsey’s almost asleep too, so she feels like she can’t be sure that she heard Rose correctly. “Huh?”

“After camp, are you just… staying here. Like in Denver.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I stay with you? Just for a few days? Because we know we don’t have COVID, but once I go home, then we’re not sure anymore and we can’t see each other and I just can’t help but feel like we might not get to see each other for like… another five or six months maybe.”

“Um…” Lindsey never thought of it like that, though she supposes it’s true. They might not get to see each other until the next NWSL season. But this doesn’t seem like something that would – or should – bother Rose.

“I like being alone,” Rose continues in her silence. “I like being home and the quiet of it all, but this is too much. I miss people. I miss human contact. I miss you, Linds.”

Lindsey’s taken aback when Rose doesn’t use her full name – she always calls her Lindsey – but she’s knocked off-kilter by that revelation. She and Sonnett talk about how much they miss each other all the time. Ok, it’s more like Lindsey whines about missing Sonnett and Sonnett just smiles back at her and say annoying things like, “I know,” and “of course you do.” But with Sonnett, it’s so obvious that she misses Lindsey, too. With Rose… well Lindsey had never given a second thought… no, make that a first thought… to the possibility that Rose could miss her when they’ve gone their separate ways.

“You can say no,” Rose’s voice is quiet, but not sad. Not sad like Sonnett’s voice would have been if Lindsey had hesitated. It just sounds more like she’s unaffected, truly ok with whatever Lindsey decides. But it’s not like Lindsey’s actually having to decide. Her pause is truly surprised processing.

“No. I mean yes! No, like I’m not going to say no. I don’t want to say no. I want you to come stay with me. You’ve never hung out with me in Denver. It’ll be fun. We’ll have fun. I’ll show you around. I mean, I don’t know what there is to show you, but yeah…”

“Linds,” Rose says softly, so unbothered that she still sounds sleepy.

“Hmm?”

Rose picks her head up slightly, just enough so she can look at Lindsey. “You’re rambling.” Her voice has changed, not necessarily much from what it was a second ago, but she sounds so unlike the Rose Lindsey knows on the field and in groups of people that it’s striking. Normally, she teases Lindsey for rambling; this afternoon, her eyes are kind and her smile is soft and her words are gentle. Right now, Rose doesn’t sound judgy. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she smiles before tucking herself back into Lindsey, and Lindsey’s left to ruminate on that for the duration of Rose’s nap. _Rose’s_ nap, because Lindsey, clearly, can’t sleep now.

*****

“We have to stop at my parents’ to get Fergy first.” Lindsey’s hands are twisting on the steering wheel. She’s antsy. She doesn’t know why. She really shouldn’t be. It’s Rose. They’re just going to hang out. Like when Sonnett came to hang out with her once. But now, she feels shaky. Or maybe it’s a buzzing. Like when she was a kid and there was that feeling in the air right before the first snow. A nervous excitement when there was really no need for the nerves at all. 

“K,” Rose says simply, looking out the window as they head down the highway to her parents’ home. “Just be careful.”

Lindsey chances a quick look at her, furrowing her brow. 

“The snow. Just be careful.” And as if to emphasize it, Rose slides her hand into Lindsey’s lap, into Lindsey’s hand, and Lindsey draws a sharp breath in. But then Rose places Lindsey’s hand on the steering wheel, forcing her to drive like she’s supposed to drive, and for about half a second, Lindsey feels like she can function again. Until Rose lets her hand fall back into Lindsey’s lap -onto her thigh – and leaves it there. Then, Lindsey is absolutely certain that even though they’re both bundled up, there can’t possibly be any fabric separating their skin. She’s not going to look down to verify that, but she’s pretty darn sure. The thought of seeing Rose’s hand on her leg seems like it might be the kind of thing that could cause her to swerve off the road. Rose misses human contact and now Lindsey is her human contact and it’s… it’s a lot… even if she is just a replacement for Sonny.

The Horans are thrilled to see Rose and insist that the two girls stay for supper. “I’m not going to take no for an answer, Lindsey,” Linda says sternly. “You haven’t had a home cooked meal in almost two weeks. Rose, tell her you’re staying for dinner.” 

“I mean, you can’t cook, Linds,” Rose shrugs regretfully.

The way her nickname is starting to roll so easily off of Rose’s tongue is beginning to have more of an effect on Lindsey than she wants to admit. She could have said no to her mom; she can’t say no to Rose, no matter how much she wants to go back and sleep in her big comfy bed in her own condo. No matter how conflicted she is about the thought of being alone with Rose there.

But supper turns into game night and games turn into dark and dark turns into no one wanting Lindsey to drive the half-hour back to Denver on icy roads. “Let me go make up Mike’s room for you, honey,” Linda smiles, targeting Rose because Rose is more likely to listen to her than her own daughter. “It’s no trouble.”

Lindsey watches Rose as her mom says it. She swears there’s a twinkle in Rose’s eyes.

Twenty minutes after they head their separate ways to go to sleep, Lindsey’s suspicions are confirmed. She hears footsteps on the wood floor in the hallway between her room and her brother’s, the unmistakable creak of her bedroom door opening, the soft click of the knob as it closes, and then Rose is shuffling the covers and squeezing into Lindsey’s twin-sized bed without even asking.

“What are you doing?” Lindsey whispers, even though her parent’s bedroom is on the opposite side of the house. There’s just something about the dark, something about a girl sneaking into her bed that makes her fear getting caught.

“I told you. I miss cuddling with Sonny. You said I could cuddle with you.”

True, but Lindsey kinda just assumed that was a one-time thing, a sad moment at camp. She didn’t expect Rose to sneak into her childhood bed wanting an 8-hour repeat. She scoots over onto her side, pressing her back into the wall and pulls Rose into her chest. Rose laces their fingers together and it surprises Lindsey how quickly that’s starting to feel normal, too. Easy. How their heartbeats and breathing rates seem to meld together. How the feelings Rose brings up in her when she presses back against her confuse the shit out of her while simultaneously bringing her comfort. That comfort brings her some of the best sleep she’s had in a long time.

When she wakes up in the morning, Rose is gone again. She pads into the kitchen to find Rose having a cup of coffee with her dad. “Sweetheart,” Mark starts, “there’s a blizzard coming. I was just telling Rose that I really think you two should stay another night or two. I’d hate for you to start driving home and get caught out in it.”

Lindsey looks between her dad and her friend, trying to figure out the best course of action. They _could_ stay. There’s nothing on Rose’s face that says she’s opposed to it, and it’s not like Rose has ever been one to hide her annoyance at something.

“Ok. Fine,” Lindsey gives in easier than anyone expected her to. “Rose, wanna get a workout in before it gets bad?”

“Lindsey, it’s a blizzard,” Linda warns, coming into the kitchen.

But there’s something pulling at her to get a workout in, to not take a day off even with the impending storm. Maybe it’s just her way of fighting off the nervousness that didn’t dissipate overnight like she hoped it would. “The loop around our neighborhood isn’t even two miles. We can make it back in no time if it starts blowing in. It’s just a run, Mom. Besides, Rose likes the cold.”

It’s not just a run. The hills against the wind are killer, worse even than the blistering cold. Every time Lindsey wants to give up, she looks over at Rose and sees her pushing through with what looks like such minimal effort, and decides she can’t. They get in just under six miles before the visibility starts to get really bad. 

“Home!” Lindsey shouts over the wind, and grabs Rose’s hand to pull her through a snow-covered field to shorten their return trip.

Back home, they tumble into Lindsey’s bed, exhausted and frozen.

“We’ll go work out at my gym the rest of the time you’re here,” Lindsey promises, her breathing still labored. “That was crazy. Sorry.”

“I do like the cold though,” Rose muses. “But…” If Lindsey hadn’t been so drained, she probably would have thought to prepare for _something_ based on the glint in Rose’s eye. “But warming up with you is better than the cold.” With that, Rose jams a hand under Lindsey’s layers, and laughs as Lindsey has to fight back a scream because of where they are.

“I hate you,” she grits out through clinched teeth.

“You don’t though,” Rose grins with a confidence that would be sexy if it wasn’t utterly annoying right now. But the annoyance quickly fades as Rose’s palm warms against her skin and she slowly starts dragging her fingers across Lindsey’s stomach. Lindsey’s grateful that the goosebumps were already there from the ice block that was Rose’s hand, because if they hadn’t been, they’d certainly be there now. She closes her eyes, breathing through the feeling of the pads of fingers grazing her stomach. She hates people touching her there, especially under her clothes, but inexplicably, Rose’s touch doesn’t create the same negative emotions. The imperfections she knows exist slowly fade to the background in her mind as Rose’s fingers trace across a wider and higher swath of her skin. “Cuddling with you isn’t like cuddling with Sonnett,” Rose muses, with absolutely no hint whether that’s good or bad.

“Oh.” Lindsey’s eyes snap open and she tenses under Rose’s touch. She always suspected that Rose and Sonny had something going on, nothing too serious, the same way that things between her and Sonnett were never too serious. Sonnett was good about that, better than most, Lindsey thought, but there were also things Sonnett wouldn’t talk to her about. This kind of confirms her suspicions. “I’m sorry if I’m-”

“Don’t apologize,” Rose says simply, and she scoots even closer to Lindsey, leaving no space between them.

“Well do you mean it in- in a bad way?”

“It’s not bad.” Rose’s fingers hit the band of Lindsey’s Nike sports bra. “Just different. It’s not bad at all,” she repeats, her voice lower.

“How’s it different?”

Without answering, Rose quickly shifts so that she’s sitting on top of Lindsey, straddling her, looking down at her with this mixture of playfulness and a strange determination, and Lindsey’s breath catches in her chest long enough to hurt the way it hurt with every inhale on their run. “Your cheeks are windburned,” Rose muses, cupping them lightly. “They look nice like this. Pink. I like it. It’s like you’re blushing all the time. Or wearing makeup. Not that you need makeup. You never need makeup…” her voice fades as her eyes study Lindsey’s intently.

Lindsey just blinks up at her, not knowing what to say. _What do you say to that_? Besides, even if she did know how to respond, she doesn’t think she can right now anyway, not with Rose sitting on top of her, looking at her like that. She doesn’t have to say anything though, because Rose keeps talking, but Lindsey doesn’t even know what Rose is saying anymore. In that moment, all Lindsey wants is silence so she can get a good look at Rose’s lips, even if that would be weird. But of course, Rose can’t shut up, and for once, Lindsey can’t seem to tell her to.

And then there’s a silence so deafening that Lindsey can’t miss it. Rose’s mouth has stopped moving and she’s just staring down at Lindsey, running her tongue across her lower lip and then sucking it in to bite it.

“How’s it different, Rose?”

Rose takes a deep breath and Lindsey feels her settle even more in her lap. “You know how when there’re two fires, and they burn towards each other, and it increases the strength of the fire?”

Lindsey shakes her head because she does not know this, and she doesn’t know why Rose knows this either.

“It’s called a junction zone.” There’s still no recognition in Lindsey’s eyes. Rose huffs, annoyed that she has to further explain what she means. “Two flames draw towards each other and then the intensity is magnified.”

Lindsey throws her hands up and the confusion on her face spreads as she momentarily stops thinking about how much she wants Rose to kiss her and instead tries to process what the hell Rose is talking about or where she’s going with this. But then Rose grabs her wrists and pins them above her head in one quick motion and the only fire Lindsey can think about anymore is the burning in her chest and between her legs where Rose sits and on her cheeks because now Rose is mere inches from her face.

“The flames lick at each other.”

This time, Lindsey nods because Rose’s intensity is overwhelming and a little scary, and because she thinks if she keeps saying she doesn’t understand, Rose will get frustrated and give up on her analogy, and now that it’s at the point of licking, Lindsey decides this conversation should continue.

“So, we’re flames? Licking at each other?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This sounded a lot better in my head,” Rose sighs like she’s going to give up, but then she changes her mind. “Basically, yeah. I just meant that Sonny’s like the safe warmth of a blanket and you’re more like a flame drawing me in. But I'm a flame, too, in this story.”

 _That_ , Lindsey thinks she gets. “Like magnets.”

Rose leans farther down so she can speak right into Lindsey’s ear. “More intense than magnets.”

“Because there’s licking?” Lindsey’s voice falters.

“Yeah. Sure.” Rose sounds distracted, but it only takes a second for Lindsey to realize why. Rose runs her tongue up the side of Lindsey’s neck and Lindsey lets out a moan that sounds way filthier out loud than she ever intended it to be. Not that she had any control over it. “That’s your sternocleidomastoid.”

Lindsey doesn’t give a shit what it is. Or about the science of fires. But she could listen to Rose’s useless knowledge for hours if it means Rose will keep this up. Leaning in. Whispering. Pressing against her. Using her tongue to identify each of the muscles tensing in Lindsey’s body right now.

“I’ve always liked yours. It’s so prominent. I’ve been wanting to do that.” Rose sits up and lets her fingers play across Lindsey’s bare neck. “You have a nice neck. It’s kissable.”

“Well you should kiss it then,” Lindsey chokes out. She frees one of her wrists from Rose and slides it around Rose’s waist. Rose is just starting to duck down, so close to her neck, when Lindsey’s door opens.

“Oh!” Linda shouts, surprised. “I didn’t know you two were together.” The look on her face slowly changes from one of confusion to a pleased smile.

“No. Mom. We’re-” Lindsey tries to bounce Rose off her, but Rose doesn’t budge.

“It’s new,” Rose replies with that devious grin of hers, twisting in Lindsey’s lap to look at her mom.

“You should have told us. Your father’s going to be so happy.”

Lindsey doesn’t even have time to think about Rose, too focused on her mom’s reaction. Or lack thereof. “What does that _mean_ , Mom?” Her face burns at the thought of her mom going to tell her dad about this little debacle.

“Well you know how much he hates Russell. He’ll be happy to know you’ve finally moved on.”

“But- ”

Linda’s already shutting the door, but pushes it back open. “Sorry. I came to tell you breakfast is ready. I’ll knock next time.”

“No, Mom. You don’t need to- ” But the door to Lindsey’s bedroom is closed before she even gets a chance to finish her sentence, and Rose bursts out in uproarious laughter. “It’s not funny!” Lindsey hisses at her, face a whole different shade of red now.

“Oh, come on, Linds. Your mom’s not even a little bit upset. I’d say she’s thrilled even. God, parents just love me.” Rose sounds so impressed with herself. “I’m a catch, really.”

Lindsey rolls her eyes at Rose’s cockiness, but she can't help thinking that Rose kinda is a catch. “Yeah, but what are you gonna do? If we’re stuck here for the next day or two? Pretend to be my girlfriend?”

“I mean, yeah,” Rose replies, like it’s not a problem, hopping off of Lindsey and her bed and heading to the door. “Come on. Breakfast is ready.”

The rest of their afternoon and evening is consumed by family time. By Mark sitting them down and making Rose watch tapes of Lindsey’s youth soccer games and Linda talking them into working on a 500-piece puzzle with her. By Rose pretending to be interested in watching Linda prepare her homemade cheesy chicken spaghetti bake and by home movies of Lindsey standing on the hearth singing, or rather screeching, Christmas carols when she was 5. And 6. And 7. No wonder they pushed her into soccer, Rose thinks. And it’s consumed by s’mores in the fireplace and a scary Halloween movie under a blanket, and Lindsey doesn’t even get a chance to talk to Rose about how stupid this whole thing is, even if it seems less stupid – momentarily – when Rose takes her hand under the blanket and proceeds to squeeze hard enough to almost break her fingers during all the scariest parts.

“Night, kids,” Linda kisses each girl on the top of the head when the movie ends, and Mark squeezes Rose’s shoulder and gives Lindsey a hug, then clicks off the light in the hall as they head for their bedroom. It plunges the two into total darkness. 

They sit there in complete silence for awhile, the sound of Fergy’s snoring covering their pounding hearts and quick, shallow breaths. And then, Lindsey realizes Rose hasn’t let go of her hand, and that forces her back to reality. “You can’t pretend to be my girlfriend,” Lindsey says quietly.

“Why not?”

 _Why not? Because pretending is too hard. Because what I feel, the heart palpitations and the trouble breathing and the sweaty palms and the butterflies, all the cliché things in stupid movies, and the perfect peace and that… feeling… between my legs, well all of it’s real and I can’t handle it_ , Lindsey wants to scream. Instead, all she mutters is “Because.”

Rose shifts under the blanket, angling her body so she can see Lindsey, even though all she can really make out in the darkness is her silhouette. “Cause why, Linds?” Rose lets her fingers trail up Lindsey’s calf to her knee. “I think I’m good at it.”

“Too good at it,” Lindsey hums under her breath.

“Well that’s cause I don’t really have to pretend.” Rose lets her fingers drift higher, stopping on Lindsey’s inner thigh. “I was gonna kiss you earlier. If your mom hadn’t come in, I would have. Can I kiss you now?”

“Is this just until Sonnett comes back?” Lindsey blurts out. “Because if it is, then…” her voice trails off and she presses her forehead into Rose’s, embarrassed. She wants to kick herself for saying it. For even thinking it. Because if it is, then what? Then no? How’s she supposed to say no when all she wants right now is to know what Rose's lips feel like? Even if it is just a temporary thing. It’s been a long time. Suddenly temporary sounds better than not at all.

“This has nothing to do with Sonnett,” Rose pulls her hand out from under the blanket to run her thumb along Lindsey’s jaw. “I’ve thought about kissing you for a long time. Sometimes, it’s all I think about when I’m around you. There’s just always so many people around. So much chaos. We’re never alone. There’s never any quiet. I asked if I could come home with you because I just wanted quiet.” She pulls away and looks up at Lindsey and Lindsey swears that even in the dark, Rose’s eyes sparkle. “But if you don’t want me to kiss you, I totally- ”

Lindsey lunges forward, closing the short distance between them, framing Rose’s face and crashing their lips together. Rose is nothing like she expected. Hungry. Needy. But meeting her every push with a pull. After a while, the ache in Lindsey’s neck bothers her enough that she tugs Rose into her lap. It’s easier than she expects, too, Rose letting her, bracing Lindsey’s thighs with her own. And that’s better for so many reasons besides just the angle. The weight of Rose’s body makes Lindsey feel safe. The knowledge that all it takes to get Rose to rock down on her is a feather-light touch to the back of her neck turns her on. The realization that from this position, her hands could explore Rose’s entire body lets her mind wander. She doesn't even care anymore if her mind is wandering to places it shouldn't.

Rose is also the first to break their kiss when she can’t breathe through its heaviness anymore, but Lindsey doesn’t let her off the hook easily, forcing Rose to drag her lower lip through Lindsey’s teeth to fully separate them. “I like your lips,” Rose whispers, more out of breath than she should be.

“God, I like yours, too. So much,” Lindsey replies, placing a much more chaste peck on Rose’s lips for emphasis. She doesn’t care how lame she sounds. There’s something about Rose – the familiarity maybe – that forces Lindsey to trust the part of her brain telling her she doesn’t have to try to impress Rose like she’s always felt the need to impress those who came before her.

Rose dives back in, pushing Lindsey into the couch cushions with the deepness of the second kiss. As Lindsey slides her hands up the smooth fabric of Rose’s yoga pants, she’d be lying if she said that the way all of the muscle fibers in Rose’s thighs twitch wasn’t the exact response she was hoping for. She stills her hands on Rose’s hips for a moment, letting Rose slowly tempt her lips apart again, and then she takes a chance and teases her fingers under the hem of Rose’s hoodie. The skin-on-skin contact is too much for Rose now that she’s not the one initiating it, and she bites down on Lindsey’s lip, hard enough for Lindsey to pull away.

“Ouch!” Lindsey lets out a surprised chuckle.

“Sorry. Sorry. I- you’re- ” Rose stammers.

“What, Rosie?” Lindsey says softly, watching all the self-assuredness drain from Rose’s face as her thumbs creep higher and higher along Rose’s ribs. And god, how she enjoys that, being able to take back some of the control from Rose, to leave her so shy, almost shaky. Knowing that Rose wants her maybe as badly as she wants Rose. Recognizing that they’re equally nervous, that she can make Rose feel off-balance.

“Fuck,” is all Rose can manage to mutter.

And that makes Lindsey smile even more. It gives her the opportunity to take the lead. It makes her feel more like herself. “I like kissing you. And touching you. I think I might like to take this off.” Her voice is gentle but the way she tugs on Rose’s hoodie is insistent. “If you’ll let me.”

“We’re not making out on your parents’ couch,” Rose’s voice starts to reveal just a tiny bit of panic.

“You are the one who thought it was a good idea to stay here,” Lindsey teases, pinching her side for good measure. “But loser,” she says playfully because she knows it will help Rose feel more like Rose, “I have a room. With a door that locks. Although… you can always just go back to Mike’s room.”

Rose chews on the inside of her cheek and stares up at the ceiling as she pretends to think about her options, and Lindsey pinches her side again, easily frustrated by the delay that’s keeping Rose’s lips off hers and her hands off Rose’s skin. Rose kisses her tenderly on the cheek, and before she even says anything, it flashes in Lindsey’s brain that this really does seem different than things with Sonnett. “Do you like me, too?” Rose asks, staring Lindsey down in the darkness.

“What? You never said you like me. You said you like my smile and my neck and my cheeks and making me nervous, but you never said- ”

“Do you like me, too?” Rose repeats, not even hesitating to cut her off because she’s adamant that she get an answer.

Lindsey nods. She does. A lot. Rose makes her feel butterflies that she never believed were actually real.

“You should tell me then.”

Lindsey’s nervous giggle returns, but Rose just sits there in her lap, waiting, like she knows she can outlast Lindsey and she knows she’s going to get what she wants. “I like you, too,” Lindsey mumbles, suddenly feeling a little bit bashful again. She feels Rose lips turning up in a tight smile against her own, a telltale sign that she’s trying hard not to smile, and that grounds her.

“I choose your bed. But only because I need someone to keep me warm. There’s a blizzard outside, you know. We could lose power.”

Lindsey grins, letting Rose pull her up off the couch and lead her down the hall. She wraps her arm around Rose’s waist as she follows her, forcing Rose to walk in tandem with her. Just before they make it to her room, she leans forward, brushing her lips against the back of Rose’s neck. Rose squeals and Lindsey has to shush her. “You know I watched a movie once,” Lindsey whispers into Rose’s hair as she kicks the door closed behind her so she doesn’t have to let go, “and they said that skin to skin actually keeps you warmer than snuggling with clothing on.”

“Is that so?” Rose asks, pulling Lindsey down on top of her. “We might have to test that hypothesis.”

See, Rose isn’t the only one full of useless information.


End file.
